


find a heart, find a soul

by rievu



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Low Chaos (Dishonored)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 09:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13610679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rievu/pseuds/rievu
Summary: "Your hands do violence,” the Heart abruptly says, coherent once more. Its — her? — voice softens as it continues, “But there is a different dream in your heart.”“I tried,” Daud suddenly says, words tumbling out over his tongue. “Your daughter, the witches, Delilah Copperspoon, the paintings. I tried.”The Heart doesn’t say a word.// if corvo lost the heart and if daud found it instead





	find a heart, find a soul

**Author's Note:**

> idk why i'm so intrigued by the heart / jessamine ?? it's just,,, rlly interesting to think about. and of course, this piece diverges from canon ;u; i took many liberties with daud's backstory / motives bc im a big fan of the entire "whaler family" idea as well as "secretly caring daud"

Time passes, and Daud tries.  
That is the best he can do. With only the word “Delilah” to rely on, he delves deep into the city streets and sewers and shadows to discover a single ship and a talking statue. Delilah Copperspoon. He doesn’t like her a single bit, but something keeps him going. Curiosity and guilt, he supposes. A heavy, heady mix that addles his conscience and his morals. Dunwall creaks and shakes on its foundations, and it is precisely because of his own actions.  
  
If he could identify one single thing that turned his entire life upside down, he would choose the assassination of Empress Jessamine rather than the day he received the Mark. For what is a single Mark and what is a whale god next to the seething rush of guilt and dismay that consume his days now?  
His men can tell, and one of his brightest, Billie Lurk, is becoming uncannily bright and too-sharp. A few of his men like Rulfio and Thomas stop by his room more often than not on some sort of pretense, but really, Daud knows that they’re there to check up on him. He appreciates it despite his gruff admonishments.  
  
Events seem to unravel faster and faster with an acceleration that everyone can sense. Every Whaler patrols the perimeter and stalks through the Flooded District with warnings ready to call out almost already on their lips. But trouble comes from unexpected place.  
Billie’s betrayal stings more than Daud ever expects. It surprises everyone, even Billie, who has known him far too long to see past his mask of an expression. The glint of hurt shines deep in Daud’s eyes, but he turns and allows mercy. Because that is who is now. More merciful and thoughtful than he would have ever expected. He laughs to himself, bitter and mirthless, in his room alone that night. This is what the Knife of Dunwall has come to, he thinks viciously with that still-burning spark of hurt. He dreams of whalesong and laughter that night. When he wakes up, Daud stares up at the ceiling and growls, “Leave me well enough alone, Outsider.” Only silence answers him, but he swears that he can still hear that same, otherworldly ring of laughter.  
  
The next night, he dreams of fighting Corvo Attano. Adrenaline pierces his veins as it always does in a fight, but in the heightened state of his dreamscape, he feels as though there is something terribly terribly wrong. Daud wakes up without finding out why. The last thing he truly remembers from the dream is Attano’s blade arcing down to end his life.  
  
The hunt for Delilah Copperspoon is not over yet. Bitterness and regret seem to coat his hands as he delves even deeper into the city in his search. And what he finds instead is a plot to take the Empress’s daughter’s soul. He could have left it well alone, but the guilt that pricks at his conscience is enough to make him turn back and chase it down. Not only would Delilah take over the girl’s body, she would take over the Empire and tear it apart, brick by brick, in her own tyrannical glee. Daud has seen far too many nobles fall down the pit of greed and desire and utter, aching pride. Even he was trapped in the gaping jaws of ego and pride once.  
Daud swears that he can hear the Outsider’s laugh as he transverses across the cityscape in pursuit of something that shouldn’t be real. Witches’ symbols, whale oil, and the constant tug of power that the Void lends. This is what comprises Daud’s days now. That, and the antics that his men tend to get up to.  
  
And still, despite his best attempt at unraveling this witch’s plot and protecting the girl, he can never quite shake off the thought that he had toppled the grand scheme of things. Daud huffs out a heavy breath as he thinks about the Outsider; no doubt he’s enjoying all of this. The empire is in shambles, and the Lord Regent clamps down on the city with a vise-like grip. All thanks to him, the Knife of Dunwall.  
  
Rumor is that Corvo Attano now stalks the streets in a search for revenge, and so, Daud quickens his steps. The High Overseer, Lady Boyle, they all disappear from view. With it, the Lord Regent grows weaker and weaker. Daud does not doubt that Corvo will come for him. Outsider’s eyes, the damn Lord Protector even came for his life in Daud’s dreams. He has to move faster and cut off Delilah’s plan before Corvo cuts his own life short. Only then does he think that he will be satisfied. The possibility of redemption. He rises out of bed the next day, heavy-hearted and full of worry, but he thinks that maybe this was enough to pay the price of an Empress’s life. A soul for a soul, a daughter for a mother, a witch in exchange for redemption. A painting now hangs with Delilah Copperspoon in it, and Daud hopes that it is enough.  
  
His conscience still weighs heavily on his shoulders though.  
  
Perhaps that is why when he finds a half-flesh, half-mechanical heart, he does not burn it right away when he hears the voice of the Empress echoing from within.  
  
There was a box, bobbing up and down in the tumultuous waters, that he idly chose to snag out of the way. For what reason, he cannot tell, especially since stopping for too long in this region meant danger from weepers or krusts. He has enough stun mines and energy to transverse out of the way, but he doesn’t want to be bothered. So, he grabs the box quickly and departs.  
  
Inside, there are a number of weapons, and to his surprise, there are a few unused runes and bone charms within. At the very bottom, he finds the Heart.  
His initial reaction is to recoil. He’s killed many before, so the dark, leathery flesh doesn’t bother him. It’s the mechanical part that’s disturbing. Even if he killed, he killed silently and swiftly. None of this ripping and mangling and tearing to shreds. That was never his style, and it wasn’t his style now. No, this was desecration at its finest.  
  
Daud glances at his gloved hands before wryly thinking that he himself would technically count as a desecration under the eyes of the Overseers. However, curiosity gets the better of him, and he lifts the Heart out of the box. Almost instantly, a voice bursts into his head with a familiar tone and timbre. _“Why have you brought me here!”_ the voice of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin cries out in his mind, sharp and bright. _“Am I meant to forgive you for what you have done?”_  
  
Daud almost drops it into the watery streets of the Flooded District, but he keeps his grip on it and says in a strained, low voice, “Empress Jessamine?”  
_“Paid assassin, Daud,”_ the Heart snarls back. _“The last thing the... Empress felt was your blade.”_ The spectral voice stumbles over the word, but the damage is already done.  
Daud bows his head over this strange contraption, this aberration of flesh and gears. How could this be? Only the Outsider would make such a cursed thing like this. He has no words to say to this ghost of a woman that can redeem himself. Her death was the final nail into the coffin that was Dunwall, and he himself was the hammer that brought it down.  
The Heart whispers and sighs in a series of angry, reverberating sounds that only he can hear, but none of the syllables make sense. Daud bites his lip and glances up, making sure that no one is around. But just in case; he retreats further into the shadows to shield the Heart from view.  
  
_“Your hands do violence,”_ the Heart abruptly says, coherent once more. Its — her? — voice softens as it continues, _“But there is a different dream in your heart.”_  
“I tried,” Daud suddenly says, words tumbling out over his tongue. “Your daughter, the witches, Delilah Copperspoon, the paintings. I tried.”  
The Heart doesn’t say a word.  
  
Daud glances up once more, scanning the perimeter for any dangers. There are a few weepers along his left, and he sighs. Better get out before they cause trouble, he thinks to himself. _"They still have some awareness and strength. Do not provoke them,”_ the Heart warns. It hums softly, as if it were trying to sing to itself, before it contemplates, _“He hopes his wife is suffering somewhere, just as much as him.”_  
“Who?” Daud asks. His eyes flick over to the weepers, and he thinks that he can pick out the shambling form of a male weeper among the throng. He shakes his head and prepares to depart. The Flooded District poses its own dangers, and although he’s survived this long and could survive another altercation with them, he does not want to waste his chances and his luck on encounters like those. The smallest items like the bone charms and runes go in his pockets while the larger weapons remain in the box. Daud tucks the box securely under his arm, and after a moment of brief hesitation, he stows the Heart away in his pocket. Then, he winks out of sight to transverse back home.

_“In the schoolyard,”_ the Heart begins. _“The other children would marvel at your quick hands. One day, a man came for young Daud and led him away.”_

“Aye,” he agrees. He has no idea what or how the Heart is seeing all of this, but with the Empress’s stern voice and tone, he cannot deny it. The Heart grudgingly subsides its babble, but then, out of the corner of Daud’s eyes, the world starts glimmering around the edges. _“The shrines,”_ the Heart breathes out. _“The runes, the bone charms, the shards of the Void left in the real world still linger. Will you search them out like you have before, assassin?”_

“Are you the one that’s showing them to me?” Daud asks.

There is no reply.

“Thank you,” he finally decides to say. A quick detour would not hurt. Weepers remain and krusts are still along the river banks, but the swollen district still has secrets left to tell. He finds some bone charms tucked away beneath a fallen wall of brick and mortar. A sign of a shrine glows beneath the streets, so Daud descends down to the sewers to see a simple shrine made of rough-hewn wood and worn out twine. Still, the telltale twists of purple identify it as one of the Outsider’s. Sure enough, when he approaches the shrine, his body seems to freeze and fall into the familiar trance.

The Outsider stands in front of him, but instead of meeting his eyes, he examines his fingernails and says nonchalantly, “So, you found the Heart of Empress Jessamine Kaldwin. That was not yours to take, my old friend.”  
Daud tries to bat off the spark of annoyance that flares in his chest, and he retorts, “I found it floating in a box. What was I supposed to do, toss it back in the Wrenhaven?”  
“No,” the Outsider muses as he lifts his white-less eyes to meet Daud’s gaze. “I suppose not. That would have been a terrible waste of time and effort on my part.”  
“I thought you didn’t play favorites,” Daud challenges. “You made this for Attano.”

After all, there can be no doubt. Only the Outsider would come up with such a twisted aberration of an idea. And frankly, Daud feels like the Outsider’s attention has been lavished more on Corvo judging from the activity that the former Lord Protector has been doing as well as the secrets and news that he’s pried up from his usual and unusual sources.

“What are you going to do with the heart of the woman you killed, Daud?” the Outsider asks, voice curling with that curl of amusement that irked Daud so. “You’ve been looking for redemption for so long, and for once, you turn my Mark’s powers for those ends. Now you have your chance. Are you going to go on your knees and beg to a dead woman?” The Outsider tilts his head and murmurs, “Or will your pride and ego stop you from finding closure? You never begged, not to the men that caught you as a child, not to your mother, not even to a god.” He tuts and shakes his head, “Oh, you were predictably fun, but now, you truly become entertaining, Daud. I never would have guessed. So, what will you do?”

Daud grits his teeth and snaps, “What business is it of yours?”  
“Oh, all of it,” the Outsider says with a childish glee. “I made it after all.”  
Daud recoils. The thought of the Outsider’s Void-pale and slender hands reaching into the Empress’s chest to mangle it like _this_ is a horrifying thought, even to an assassin like him. He can't say that he didn't expect it, but he didn't expect the blatant confirmation.  
“You could finish the job,” the Outsider wheedles.  
Daud shakes his head abruptly. No, he has already killed the woman once. He will not be the one to bring her a second death. “Enough, Outsider,” he growls.

The Outsider shrugs and says, “It’s always up to you, Daud. You’ve been so unpredictable lately. Amuse me once more.” With that, he fades away from sight, and the heavy sensation of the Void leaves his chest. Daud feels like he can breathe again. Not that the sewer air is anything delightful to breathe in, but compared to the strange, otherworldly weight of the Void, it’s better. He leaves the shrine with haste and returns back to the base.

The Heart remains quiet.

_“A tool at the hands of powerful men becomes more than what it is,”_ it suddenly says. Daud lands neatly on the ceiling of a building and looks out for a few apprentices. There should be some coming along with Rulfio— ah, there they are. He crosses his arms and observes them from above, careful to be mindful of his surroundings. Anything could pop out of the dark, and those young, still-bright, few didn’t deserve death already. Logically, he knows that whoever's assigned to teach them is more than capable enough, but he can't help himself.

“Why would you say that?” Daud asks, deciding to entertain this facsimile of a conversation.  
“ _The Empress was a pawn used by powerful men. You are the same,_ ” it says with a rather matter-of-fact tone. The Heart seems to give off waves of uneasiness as it says, “ _You hold regret constantly without end. You search for redemption by saving the girl, but will you ever be satisfied?”_

The group of apprentices pass by safely, and Rulfio pauses to wave up at Daud. He nods back and turns on his heel to transverse to the next building over. But from there, he starts walking along the catwalks that they’ve all built over the years.

“I ruined the entire Empire with a single kill. I don’t think anyone could sleep easy after that,” he decides to say. He shuts his mouth and only nods when he passes by a few sentries, Aedan and Aeolos.

“ _Secrets held within the dark until Lord Hiram Burrows pried one out of your hands. You thought it would be a simple death. Many lives for the price of one,_ ” the Heart states flatly.

Daud presses his lips thinly together when he remembers the day Hiram Burrows summoned him. Overseer after Overseer stepped out of the shadows with those incessant music boxes that drowned out the sensation of void-power from his limbs. It was a simple choice: the life of the Empress or the lives of his Whalers. Daud knew Hiram Burrows always was an orderly man. He would have systematically rooted out every last Whaler in the city with the wretched music, and that was a theory that Daud was not willing to test. Could he really decide? Was that a choice better left up to him? Daud rubs his eyes as he remembers the memory, and the Heart murmurs to him, soft and melancholy. He always had the choice, whether it be being Marked or accepting the job. Daud sighs heavily, and that same ever-present burden of his conscience returns to burn at the back of his mind.

Once he’s back at the base, he decides to get through some reports and check in on some newer apprentices. However, someone hurries over to him. From the looks of his uniform and marks along the side of his mask, it’s Thomas. Daud can see the blue of his uniform weave and bob through the small crowd of Whalers that are gathering.

“What is it?” Daud calls out.

Thomas takes off his mask, and his expression is shuttered and closed off as he says, “We captured Corvo Attano.”

“How in the _Void_ did you manage to capture Corvo Attano?” Daud snaps, half surprise and half anger. If Thomas was the one to finally bring down the Lord Protector, the favorite of the Outsider, then Daud deeply underestimated his skills or overestimated the Lord Protector’s. And if Corvo Attano was under their roof, then every single person in this base was in danger. A caged animal’s rage was not to be overlooked even if it was a Serkonan crow.

Thomas shakes his head, and Daud almost sighs with relief. “Poisoned from the looks of it,” Thomas informs him. “He should be waking up soon.”

Daud tightens his red coat around him, ignoring the cries of the Heart, and says sharply, “Well then, lead on.” Thomas only nods and goes back further into the base where they keep their prisoners. In truth, the room is largely empty, and there are only a few large cages. Daud never liked them, but he will not ignore the possible necessity for them. And there he is, lo and behold. The Lord Protector himself.  
The Mark of the Outsider is bold and black on his hand, and Daud wonders why the fool never thought to buy gloves or something of that sort. Did he intend to get captured by Overseers at nearly every turn and corner of the streets? The Abbey always found the crimes that it sought in the people of the Empire, but this was just making their job too easy.   
Daud belatedly realizes that the box is still tucked under his arm, and now, the Heart insistently says, _"The Lord Protector, shaking and seething. They betrayed them despite his faithful work. He does in the memory of…”_ The Heart’s voice hitches as it finishes, “ _The Empress as well as their daughter.”_

He strides over to Attano and straightens his collar. He clears his throat and starts to say roughly, "I know a great deal, bodyguard. I recognize those marks on your hand. A gift from your friend, the one who talks to you in the dark. Talks to you when you visit his shrines. I've visited those shrines too."

Attano’s eyes flash. Daud knows the look; it’s the glint of a blade, the taste of blood on your tongue, and the sense of ever-rising rage building at the back of your throat. He can’t help but poke at it a little more by saying bitterly, “And I know what it felt like to shove a blade in your Empress. But I don’t know who you are and what you fight for.” He pauses for only a moment before admitting, “You’re a mystery and I can’t allow that.”

Corvo snaps and rushes against the bars of the cage. “You know _nothing_ ,” he spits out at Daud. Daud doesn’t flinch; instead, he peers closer. Underneath that blade-like gaze, he sees grief. Anger. Regret. Bitterness. Much like his own, Daud realizes.

_“He loves, and he loved,”_ the Heart says with a thrum of anguish. “ _He tries, and he tried. Poor Serkonan boy with deft hands and quick eyes. You were once like him. Same start but with a path that diverged."_

With a rush of revelation, Daud realizes that he is simply _tired_. Exhausted and worn out from a life of chaos that he himself wrought. He glances to his Whalers and thinks about this ragtag group that he accidentally built from the ground up.

Aeolos, Anatole, Galia, Thomas, Rulfio, Jenkins, Pickford, Walter, Daniel, Jordan, Finn, and so many more within the flooded ruins of what was once the Financial District. Not just a band of assassins anymore, but a family.

Corvo Attano will likely kill him, but he will make sure that they survive. That is the least he can do.

“You got poisoned,” Daud says flatly. “By who, I don’t know. But I do have something that belongs to you.” He opens up the box and displays the contents to Corvo. A flash of recognition lights up the man’s eyes, and Daud knows that he guessed right. Then, he pulls out the Heart out of his pocket and extends it to Corvo.

“This is yours,” Daud says, simply and frankly. Corvo sways on his feet with surprise etched on nearly every line of his face. “Well, go on, take it,” Daud says again. He steps closer to the cage and slots his hand between the bars. He fully expects Corvo to take it and break his wrist along with it, but Corvo only takes the Heart with gentle fingers and a softening expression.

“Why?” Corvo asks. His face looks tired and haggard without the mask, but his expression is more open and guarded simultaneously. Curiosity and wonder, if Daud had to hazard a guess.

“I’ve spent my life making choices that I never thought I would regret,” Daud replies honestly. “All for a heavy purse of gold and more. Our friend has a way of making us feel like we’re more than what we really are. I’ll give you back your gear and I’ve already given back your Heart. I only ask for one thing in return.” Daud levels his gaze at Corvo and says, “Let my men go. Let them go free. I can make them leave Dunwall and find better lives outside the city if you want. Just let them live.”

Corvo cocks his head and examines him. “Prioritizing your men over yourself,” he muses. “I never would have expected that from the Knife of Dunwall.” His fingers tighten over the Heart, and Daud glances at his grip. He wonders how many secrets the Heart is telling Corvo. What else does he have to lose? Corvo’s jaw tightens, but he nods almost imperceptibly. “Alright,” he says. “But I can make you a better deal.”

Daud raises an eyebrow and asks almost snappishly, “What is it, Lord Protector?” What more does Attano want? His head? His body? All the bone charms that he has left?

Corvo stares at Daud, poison-fevered and exhausted, and says, “You’ll have mercy from me. Both you and your men. But instead, go to Dunwall Tower with me. You have more than enough men. Take them with you and come with me to save Emily.” Corvo holds up the Heart with his Marked hand, and his brow furrows as he admits, “You’ve already done it once. Saved her, I mean. But…” Corvo trails off, seemingly at a loss. He sways closer to the bars of his cage until he’s veritably leaning on it for the support that it lends him.

Daud gapes. Corvo sinks down to the floor of his cage, weakening more and more, and his grip on the Heart loosens. Daud sets the box down and beckons Thomas over. Thomas reluctantly sets the keys down on Daud’s outstretched palm. Daud goes to unlock the cage, and Corvo stumbles out, almost falling in him.

With a sigh, Daud takes Corvo’s arm and supports his body. When he slips Corvo’s arm over his head, the Heart brushes against his arm and whispers, _“He has seen the dreams and the actions of your present. Of whale oil and witches. And he is grateful.”_

Daud pauses to see the frozen and defensive stances of the Whalers around him. Some that are unmasked look horrified while Thomas looks at him with disappointment but grudging acception. Thomas should be used to Daud’s stubbornness and strangeness at this point.

“Well,” he barks out. “What are you waiting for? Let’s get the Lord Protector to a bed and get the poison looked at. Move!”

As he walks, half carrying and half dragging Corvo, the Heart remains in Corvo’s resolute grip. It brushes against Daud’s arm, and as the physician’s room (if they could even properly call it that) comes into sight, the Heart says ever so softly, _“Find a heart, find a soul. I am not alive nor have I received the gift of death.”_ With a rustling sigh, it finishes, _“I will be glad to rest.”_

**Author's Note:**

> mmmm i had different ideas / plans as to how this was going to go, but it ultimately ended up being this. i'm not too satisfied with it, but hey, i figured that i might as well post it without hesitation.  
> the idea was that daud + whalers would help corvo go to dunwall tower and save emily. emily would pardon them and have closure by chatting with daud and corvo about the entire deal, and daud could find redemption by restoring order in the empire w/ corvo and emily and the rest of his whalers and all that. no leaving dunwall and stuff. the ending was too long and felt too forced out, so i felt like ending it there was better.  
> anyhow, thanks for taking the time to read this + i hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
